


Call Off the Search for Your Soul

by brieflybe



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow series - Gemma T. Leslie
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Pining, Pre-Canon, Thoughts about death, one sided Baz/Simon, pining Baz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 06:51:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5656783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brieflybe/pseuds/brieflybe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The five stages of grief and loving Simon Snow. <em>It has to go away because it's self-destructive in a way that Baz is not, because it's like breaking his own heart, dismantling carefully placed parts with his teeth and his nails, this is like getting rid of his mind instead of just losing it, leaving it at the side of the road in enemy territory and walking away.<em></em></em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Call Off the Search for Your Soul

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [asexualizing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Specialcookies/pseuds/asexualizing), for the beta!

_Denial:_

It's not like Baz sits around thinking: Oh Crowley, this can't be happening to me. Not acknowledging problems is for lesser beings, it's for people who're willing to lose, like how Simon's convinced that The Great Mage isn't a tyrant, like how Baz's father is convinced Baz is going to marry a woman and start a family, like how Baz's convinced that nobody knows he's a vampire.  Baz is too smart for that, anyway, knows himself too well (unlike Snow, who seems surprised every time he opens his own mouth to speak and words come out, who can probably smite them all down and reimagine them into existence and not even notice. Idiot). He might ignore being a vampire, but he's well aware that he is one. He might have figured homosexuality was a problem to deal with in the future (and look at that here the future comes. Fantastic) but he knew that he and a girl was just not happening. He knows that. Being in love with Snow? That was definitely happening. Fuck his entire life.

Mostly, he didn't think long term. Mostly, he didn't think all that much, couldn't think all that much, 'cause he had to believe that it'll go away. Mostly, he's just so very angry. Like falling for Simon is something that was done to him (a terrible, shameful curse that was cast upon him, unlike being a homosexual, mostly like being a vampire). He's seeking blame, he's extracting revenge, he sinks his fangs into a goddamn rat thinking: why is this happening to me, and tastes the blood on his tongue, feels it sliding down his throat, waits for the creature to die between his fingers. He's alone in the dark surrounded by rodents he striped for parts and knows that there is no way to change the way his inner compass points to Simon Snow instead of North, instead of home, instead of out, the way Snow's voice is always ringing in his ears, no way to forget all of the ways in which he wishes to shut Snow up. Like, he wants to kiss him and rip his throat out at the same time. He wants to bite that spot on his collar bone until he can taste blood, and is afraid of leaving a scar. He wants to hug Snow until it hurts all over, until he hears a crack.

It has to go away because it's self-destructive in a way that Baz is not, because it's like breaking his own heart, dismantling carefully placed parts with his teeth and his nails, this is like getting rid of his mind instead of just losing it, leaving it at the side of the road in enemy territory and walking away. He's not a victim, he knows this, but he feels like he is. Like this is Karma for something that could have been avoided, like this is the kind of cancer you get for breathing Snow's radioactive magic. It makes perfect sense because Snow is everywhere, Snow is sleeping in the bed next to his, Snow, blond curls dripping wet, coming out of their shower, Snow watching him at practice, never averting his gaze, stupid blue eyes on him: at breakfast, at class, Snow following him like the thoughts in his head, like a thing he can crush, like he can gather all of the poison in his chest into a tight ball of impending disaster, and then tear it out with his bare fingers. Once out in the fresh air, it will implode like a bomb (take the hand of the person you love in yours and use your joint fingers to pull the trigger. Watch how the only one to fall to pieces is you). 

It will go away. It will go away, because Simon got his fairy tale with a beautiful platinum blond princess and it's inconceivable that Baz got Simon (yes, inconceivable that means what Baz thinks it means. Nowadays it's also a sort of a beta reader spell. Normals pop culture is so weird). It will go away because the line between love and hate is only thin if you're the bad guy, because it's so one sided it can't possibly inhale enough oxygen to last. It will go away because it's the most humiliating thing to ever happen, to anyone, and Baz has his pride, he values his self-respect, he's not going to sit around and pine for some blond kid and his obscene amount of magic and his constellations of moles, it will go away because he hates Snow so much he can't sleep at night, because all he can think about his grabbing him by his collar and pinning him against the wall and use his nails and teeth to –

It will go away because Baz is going to kill it.

 

_Anger:_

It's not going away, and Baz can’t kill it. He can't kill Snow, either. But the last one is not entirely Baz's fault – no one can kill Snow, apparently, and Baz feels like the cat from that old cartoon, trying to catch his prey and failing, trying to cause damage and only hurting himself. He can't see straight anymore (yeah, he never saw straight, haha), can't sleep at night, either, Snow creeping on him like a heat wave, making him toss and turn and curse into is pillow, making him stare at Snow, lying in his bed across the room, and finding him staring right back.

It has to end, because Baz can't go on like this. He dreams of Snow being slaughtered by the Humdrum while Baz is watching, helpless to do anything. He dreams of Snow slaughtering the Humdrum while Baz is right there, useless like a fucking Normal. The Humdrum looks like the Mage. There is no happy ending for Baz either way.

He can't catch a break, can't not see him, can't not think of him, the center of his universe hates him and Baz despises him right back and there is no way out of this one, nothing that he can do, no way to get Snow's voice out of his head, no way to make him leave Baz alone, and Baz might as well be plotting, if that's why Snow is constantly after him –

He dreams of shaking Snow's offered hand, on that first day. Dreams of smiling and saying welcome and offering to show Snow around. Snow was tiny, wide eyed, sickly thin. He would have been eager and impressionable. He would have thought that Baz's the coolest mage ever. He dreams – like a nightmare, that is, not like wishing, like waking up at odd hours feeling nauseous, skin clammy with sweat. Snow is spreading like cancer, spreading like all those voids the Humdrum leaves behind, spreading like the veins running down his arms. There is nothing in his hands, nothing in his pockets – but he feels so goddamn heavy.

He dreams of luring Snow away from the mage, not like a dream, like a plan. Like a miracle he did not ask for. There's a fire burning underneath his skin and it makes him want to hurt, it makes him want to tear at something – his own skin, maybe, stepping out of it, hoping to leave Snow behind.  

He's so ready to leave Snow behind. His aunt gives him a pocket recorder and explains how to use it. If Baz was saner he'd ask what's the difference – between this and biting someone's head off, that is, drinking Snow's voice and drinking his blood (it's redundant, of course, because there are proper ways to kill. Beasts mutilate, humans neutralize. Snow's figured out that Baz is a vampire, though, so it's all the same to him).

It fucking figures that Snow is saved by a bystander, really. Snow can't be killed. Snow is the fucking lame hero of this fucking lame story. And Baz is the fucking villain, because he tried to steal Simon's voice, just like that witch from the little mermaid did. 

(They say only the good die young. Well, his mom is long gone, and here Baz is, still alive. Sort of. Immortal, maybe.). (He likes Simon's voice).  

He can't kill it, Baz is a vampire and Baz is in love with Simon Snow and it's an Undead kind of love. Simon Snow is the one that's going to kill it.

 

_Bargaining:_

He's pretty sure he could off Simon Snow anyway, if needed to. He's just not actively trying. It's a moot point. He would have murdered (it's not murder if it's war, isn't it? Or maybe it's an act of terrorism) Snow in a heart-beat if only it meant he was actually gone (so maybe it's a crime of passion, petty and hurried, and Baz would own Snow, at the end). 

It's funny though, the way things are piling up. Like Baz would have given anything for his mother to live, but she would have killed him on sight. Like Baz would have given anything to be human except he'll be so much easier to kill when the time comes – like, Snow can make him burn to ashes like the witches of Salem, like his mother, like London, in the blink of an eye, but Snow is the good guy, or at least convinced that he is (those are the worst. The mage is the worst) and good guys don't just go around making their roommates disappear, clearly, the right thing to do is to stalk them. Anyway, there is no version of him that isn't a vampire, like, the way sometimes father is sure that there's a version of him that isn't gay. He can't think like that.

Like, Baz would have given anything to win Simon Snow, but he can't kill him anymore. Like, Baz would have given anything to stop loving Simon Snow, but he'd probably give more to just have him.

Like, he's pretty sure he could save Snow, if asked – from the Humdrum, from himself, carry him away and spend the rest of their lives together as terrible roommates in relative peace. He's pretty sure he could love Snow forever, if asked. Pretty sure he's going to, anyway.

He's pretty sure no one is asking.

 

_Depression:_

Remember that time when you fell in love with your arch enemy that hated you, when you realized this is what will be left of you after the war is over, after all the hatred and rage will go away and you're too tired to fight and you don't care enough anymore about anything but him. And remember how he hates you, and remember how he'll off you if you don't finish him first. Remember how you can't. Then, remember how you're a blood sucking monster who was supposed to go ages ago, remember how your skin is white like a corpse and how incredibly dead your mother is, inevitably, because she knew her place. Realize how it all fits, how you were both brought together so that Snow could kill you, how you fell madly in love so that you'll let him.

 

_Acceptance:_

Let's make one thing clear: he does not watch Doctor Who. He does not. Will not. Ever. Watch Doctor Who. Because Doctor Who is INSANE, and Baz, who is a mage, and a vampire, and can both suck blood through his teeth and preform magic, cannot, for the life of him, understand how that plastic piece of crap manages to open doors, so no, he does not watch it, he knows that Snow and Agatha does, knows that it's their Christmas thing, but they are both idiots, so there. There was this quote, though, that Baz sort of remember - from not watching it, that is - that one thing:   _It was such a big mistake, wasn’t it? Take a child, raise her into a perfect psychopath, introduce her to the Doctor. Who else was I going to fall in love with?_  

Baz in not a psychopath, nor was he raised to become one, and the Pitches were the heroes, once upon a time, but he can't help but think – that he's bent in the head, from grief, maybe, from life, perhaps, and he loves magic more than he loves Snow but it's almost the same thing, isn't it? That Snow is as fucked up as they come and will make a terrible hero someday, but he will get the job done, he will devour the Humdrum like a monster, he will crush Baz's way of life, will trample all that is old under his feet, from rare, ancient spell books to vintage shops at Camden, and it won't even be entirely on purpose. And Baz likes his smile, and that he has good intentions, that he's not a bully, that is, and he likes that he's not that great and he likes how powerful he is, how sort of smart he is, likes that he's good enough, or bad enough, okay, there is no one else that's either of those things.

Funny thing is – nothing has changed. Like, there is a fuse in Baz's chest that was burning out since he was about twelve (careful, Baz, you're flammable), and all that's different is awareness, crawling at the back of his mind, cold as ice, all that changed was words, getting louder and louder, turning common, transforming into spells. Baz had always loved Snow, apparently, and here they still are. So nobody knows, and nobody ever will. This is not another way in which he gets to disappoint his family. This is just him, and his personal angst, and his appalling taste in men. There will be suffering, surely – that strange feeling, like you're clutching something between your fingers, holding it close to your chest, but there is nothing in your hands, there is nothing on your skin, there is nothing outside of your head, there is nothing.

He thinks about him during summer vacation, alone in a fucking orphanage, uniforms tossed aside and curls cut off, surrounded by Normals, living his life like Baz doesn't even exists. He thinks about Snow holding Wellbelove's hand, an expression of deep concentration on his face, like he's memorizing the feel of her skin, like there is nothing else out there for any of them. He thinks about Snow eating like a pig on every fucking meal in history of time, probably because his stupid magic is devouring his insides, or something creepy like that (said the vampire). He thinks about Snow, living his life, existing outside of Baz's head. Snow, getting closer and farther away, Snow, either laughing or yelling, Snow, going off, his magic wiping unwanted disruptions from school grounds, and how Baz is one of them. He thinks about Snow, confessing his love for Baz, saying that he needs him, always, right now, leaning in for a kiss –

He's trying not to think that much. There is nothing to think about. There is nothing to gain. The thing about this thin line between love and hate is that it's only thin when you cross it. Afterwards, you can’t cross back.  There is nothing to be done. He hits on Wellbelove just to see Snow fumes. He watches Snow while he sleeps. He's not going anywhere, and there is so much injustice in this – in the unevenness of this, how Simon won't cry when Baz dies. In Symposium, Plato describes how humanity used to be these paired creatures, one body that was made of two, and how the Gods have separated them. How ever since people are walking all over the world, looking for their other half. He imagines a Simon'n'Agatha creature, and sort of wants to throw up. The thing about this, the whole meant-to-be thing, the soul mate thing, is that it means that none of what Baz's feeling is real unless Simon returns it. Baz wants to jump out of the bloody window, and it doesn't even count, to the Simon'n'Agatha creature it doesn't even matter. He wants to tear Simon's heart out. Wants to split it in two, like the gods did.

Agatha's hands are warm between his own and she watches him with huge, pale eyes. She seems scared, but in a good way, and it occurs to him he could probably lure her away from Simon if he really wanted to, that Simon is walking upon the earth alone, always have, just like Baz did, and Baz might have lost, but Simon isn't winning any happily ever after competitions either. She looks at him as if he's this riddle she can't figure out, as if she was terribly bored, and here he is, something shiny and new and exciting. The sky is clear and starless and the moon shines so bright is seems misplaced and it's almost insane, how beautiful she is, it almost funny, how much Baz does not want her. Snow is watching them though, and Baz wants him to watch. He wants to leave a dent on Simon's metal casing. Thing is, Baz has fallen in love and got his heartbroken in about the same moment, and fair is fair, you know? He should have the right to break Simon's heart right back.

So he does. He's trying, anyway. Simon Snow is the hero of this story, and his happily ever after is impossible to crush. Baz isn't sure he's really earned it – like, in terms of misery Baz can give him a ran for his money, and in terms of heroing he'll eventually do as much damage as he'll do good. There are more worthy candidates, surely, but there you go. Except Snow always has good intentions. Except he's an idiot and should probably be saved from himself. Except happy will look terrific on Snow, he's got this wide, wide smile and a laugh that's extremely loud and Baz never gets to see Snow at peace. Except Snow is a ticking time bomb and it'll be horribly unfair if he doesn’t survive himself.

Whatever, it doesn't matter.

It's not like Baz's sitting around thinking, why is this happening to me? Whining is for the weak, it's beneath him, it's for people who've already lost, and technically Baz's still running. Technically – whatever happy ending Simon Snow is going to have, Wellbeloveless or not – Baz doesn't fit in, and he's pretty sure he was not awarded one of his own. Whatever, whatever, whatever, happy endings are for those who've given up on life right now, and Baz did not, Baz has his magic and his friends and his family, he has the dark silhouette of Snow, across the room from him, to stare at.

If he has to die at somebody else's hands, he'd rather it would be Simon Snow. If he has to love another person, there is no one else he could fall for, really.

It counts, he's sure. The way Snow's bursts of magic counts. There is damage wherever he goes, trailing after him like a cloak, leaving a road of bread crumbs. Snow will catch up someday, and Baz won't make it easy for him. He's here, there are scars on the tips of his fingers and he's passing them around like ink. Snow can spend his entire life following Baz around, for all he cares. Snow is here, for now. Baz's leaving a dent. He's going off. He's an ending of sorts.

 

 

   

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr right [here!](http://briefly-be.tumblr.com/)


End file.
